


The Devil's In The Details

by harlot_of_oblivion



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angry Sex, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Crime Scenes, Crimes & Criminals, Demons, Detectives, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Feelings Realization, Flirting, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Knifeplay, Murder Mystery, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Suspense, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25009861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harlot_of_oblivion/pseuds/harlot_of_oblivion
Summary: A string of strange murders shows some signs of demon involvement, but that's no surprise to you since Red Grave City has become the capital of all things demonic ever since the Qliphoth incident. You're a detective trying to catch the culprit behind these violent crimes, but you soon realize that you can't do it alone...you need a little help from the notorious mercenary known as Dante, the Legendary Devil Hunter.
Relationships: Dante (Devil May Cry)/Reader, Dante (Devil May Cry)/You
Comments: 59
Kudos: 86





	1. Another Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're a detective of the Red Grave City P.D. investigating another strange murder when you find a possible break in the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After many months of daydreaming and planning, I'm finally starting a new series featuring Dante/Detective Reader! So, I hope you enjoy the first few chapters! 😘🥰

_Another day, another murder_ , you thought grimly as you arrive at the scene of what is assuredly another grisly crime.

It is early morning. The sun has barely peeked over the horizon, but that is not enough to deter several reporters from crowding around the police tape. You park your motorcycle just on the outskirts of the police barrier, assessing the best possible route to take around the crowd without drawing attention to yourself. A few bright flashes from a numerous camera makes you grumble under your breath as you hop off your ride. You straighten out your riding jacket and jeans before removing your helmet, flipping your hair back as you breath in the crisp morning air.

“Detective! Detective!”

“Is this at all related to the other murders around the city?”

“Does this mean we have a serial killer running rampant through our streets?”

“Detective, please! The citizens of Red Grave deserve some answers!”

The gaggle of clamoring news reporters and journalists greet your ears as you approach the police tape. You keep your head down and turn away from their prying eyes while you press forward, never slowing your pace as you forge ahead. And as soon as you get to the barrier, you quickly duck under and slip through before any of them can surround you with their mics and cameras.

A couple of officers rush forward to calm the crowd as you survey the scene before you: upscale house in the better part of town, no fence, and neighboring houses on either side of the home. You reach into the inside pocket of your jacket and pull out your glasses, quickly sliding them on before whipping out a small sketchbook. Your keen eyes scan around more thoroughly, looking for anything out of place as you walk up the long driveway.

The house looks like your typical suburban home: two stories of brick walls with the usual gothic architecture that is so common around this part of town. The lawn gets cut regularly and only a few stray dog toys sully its pristine state. And the garage is vast, big enough to hold two cars, but there is only one fancy sports car parked in there now.

You slide the pencil stored in the spiral spine of your sketchbook and begin to draw out all the possible inconsistencies you have observed thus far: stray dog toys means either no one’s been around to mow the lawn or that the owners do their own lawn work, the fact that the garage door is open strikes you as odd, and speaking of dog toys…your hand pauses as you double check for any sign of a doghouse in the yard before looking back in the garage, searching for anything might serves as a dog bed. 

_Hmm…could be an inside dog_ , you ponder, squinting at your rough drawing of a dog toy that does seem to be quite small. You make a quick note about it by the sketch before moving on, drawing a car with a question mark beside it and a note about the whereabouts of the other car. When you are finished with your preliminary observation, you reach back into your pocket for a pair of rubber gloves and hurriedly slip them as you approach a group of officers waiting by the entrance. 

“Good Morning, Detective.”

The officer that greets you at the door is Tyrell Reed if you remember correctly. “Morning,” you mutter back with a nod of your head before following him past his fellow officers through the front entrance of the house. You take in your surroundings, noting that the entrance hall is quaint but still holds an air of old-fashioned wealth. After a few more quick glances over at the side rooms you ask what your colleagues refer to as the universal code for _what crazy shit are we dealing with today?_ in the language of law enforcement.

“What have we got here, Officer?” 

“Same shit, different body.”

You chuckle dryly at his matter-of-fact reply before getting down to business. “Victim’s name?” 

“Giles Harmon. The husband of Mabel Harmon.”

You scribble down both names on a fresh page of your sketchbook. “And where is our newly widowed wife?” you ask while glancing down at your drawing of the sports car.

“A few of the neighbors saw her leave in the middle of night about a week ago, which just so happens to be how long the victim has been lying here dead.”

“Did they say whether or not she drove away in a car?” you question, looking up at the officer over the frames of your glasses. He nods and you quickly jot down that detail by the appropriate sketch before moving onto the next question. “Any kids?”

“One. A son. He goes by Paul and he’s a student over at RGU. He’s also the one who found the body, so he’s currently being held down at the station for questioning.”

“Excellent! What about the dog?”

“Dog?” Officer Reed’s brow furrows. “What dog?”

You flash him your drawing of the stray dog toys. “There’s evidence in the yard that points to them owning at least one dog,” you inform patiently before firing away with follow up questions. “Did you or any of the other officers first at the scene see or hear anything that may have been a dog?”

“Hold on a sec.” Officer Reed excuses himself and peeks his head out the front door. You hear him ask the officers your question and a variety of murmurings before he turns back to you. “No, ma’am. None of us heard no barking, but one of the boys did see some bowls on the kitchen floor.”

“Did any of the neighbors mention hearing a dog bark when Mrs. Harmon left?”

Officer Reed shakes his head. “Not that I recall, but I’ll be sure to send you their statements.”

“Did you see the son with a dog by chance?”

He shakes his head again. “Nope. I saw him myself as he was being escorted from the scene. He wasn’t holding a dog and there wasn’t a dog following after him either.”

“Alright,” you nod, finishing off the last of your notes by the dog toy sketch. “I’ll take it from here, Officer.”

“No problem, Detective. I’ll get outta your way and let ya do your thing.” 

Officer Reed tips his hat and heads back outside, leaving you to explore the rest of the house at your leisure. You head towards the kitchen, passing through what looks to be the dining room on the way there. Your eyes instantly spot the bowls previously mentioned on the floor by the end of a countertop. When you go over to inspect them, you see one is filled with water while the other is full of brown chunky pellets that look like your typical dog food. You bend down and pick up a pellet and give it a sniff, confirming that it is indeed dog food before making note of it in your sketchbook.

Your eyes flicker over and pause at the sight of a door. _If I am not mistaken…that must lead to the garage_ , you surmise, slowly rising to your feet as you take note of a mat and a wooden key holder by the door. Multiple pairs of shoes are lined up across the mat, ranging from high heels and loafers to muddy sneakers and running shoes. You flip a page in your sketchbook and begin to draw, taking great care to detail the perfect formation shoes as well as the obvious gap in the middle of the mat…which could have possibly been the pair of shoes Mrs. Harmon put on before fleeing the scene. 

As soon as you are done sketching the missing pair of shoes, you glance over to the key holder and instantly notice an empty hook. You look closely at the other hooks, noting the pair of keys that belong with the sports car in the garage along with a couple of other mysterious keys. One of them looks like a key to a lawnmower while the other may be a key to a lock box or a safe. You quickly correct your previous note about the possibility of having hired help to at least not having it for lawncare before taking out a spare evidence bag. You carefully unhook the mystery key and drop it into the bag, making sure it is sealed properly before finishing up in the kitchen. 

You open a few drawers and cabinets, casually searching until you find a bag of name brand dog food in a nearby cupboard. The label boasts about being the best dog food on the market for small breeds, confirming your assumption from earlier when you first arrived. You quickly write that detail down and take one last hard look at the whole kitchen, letting what you have discovered so far tell their tale of what happened the night of the murder. All the little details fall into place and form an incomplete picture, but you can still glean some information from what you have gathered thus far:

_The numerous pairs of shoes on the mat show no sign of being shoved out of place, which could mean the suspect felt no sense of urgency as they fled the scene. There is evidence that they owned a dog, but it either ran away or it’s hiding somewhere in the house…or perhaps a victim as well. And if it turns out that the latter is true, then the murder may not be the result a lover’s quarrel gone wrong._

The picture in your mind looks more like a preliminary drawing, but you remind yourself that even the best works of art take time to complete.

You check out the other rooms on the bottom floor only to find more evidence of this family’s luxurious wealth in the form of expensive paintings and furniture. Once again you see no evidence of a rushed exit, but that could simply be because the suspect did not have to enter most of the rooms on the way to the garage. You head back to the entrance hall and climb up the stairs to the second floor. The sight of more police tape blocking entry into one of the rooms tells you that is where you will find the body of the victim as well as the crime scene analyst scouring every inch of that room for crucial evidence.

Before you head in there for a quick debriefing, you take a quick peek into the other rooms and immediately deduce that the scene of crime happens to also be the bedroom. You also take note of just how spotless each room appears to be, which may add more credence to this being premeditative murder _. Easy there…don’t wanna jump the gun so soon_ , you mentally reprimand while nodding at the two officers on guard outside of the bedroom. You squeeze through a large gap in the police tape and your eyes instantly spot a most grisly sight.

Mr. Harmon is lying face up on the bloodstained carpet, dead vacant eyes staring up at the ceiling. You turn to a fresh page in your sketchbook and get to work mapping this horrid scene. The bed sits in the center of the room against the wall and the sheets are all rumpled. One of four pillows is on the floor while the others are strewn across the bed. The victim’s body is lying a couple of feet away from the foot of the bed and he appears to be wearing white cotton pajamas with a baseball theme pattern. Besides the messy bed and dead body, nothing else seems remotely out of place on first inspection. But that just means you need a closer look to add more detail to the sketch forming in your mind.

You draw out some final details before walking across the room towards Carmen Torres, the crime scene analyst currently snapping pictures of the victim. Both of you started out in Red Grave P.D. at the same time and have formed an amicable relationship over the past few years. She does not seem to mind your more serious and sometimes snarky attitude while you tolerate her eccentricities since behind her quirkiness lies a brilliant forensic mind. Plus, you enjoy her attempts at lightening the mood with cheery conversation while poking around a dead body.

The rotten stench of decay wafts under your nose before you can call out to get her attention, causing you to wrinkle your nose as you cough in disgust. Carmen looks back over her shoulder and flashes you a sunny smile. “Good morning, Quickdraw!” she greets, using her fond nickname for you despite all your vehement protests.

“There’s nothing good about it, Sandiego,” you retort with a roll of your eyes while waving your hand in front of your face. “But I guess good morning to you too.”

“I see you’re as chipper as always,” Carmen jests as she reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out a jar of what she refers to as miracle smelly cream before tossing it your way.

“I’ll be a dazzling ray of sunshine as soon as I get some coffee,” you chortle while catching the jar. You unscrew the cap, scoop a small amount of its contents onto your finger, and smear it beneath your nose. When you give a test sniff to see that the stench is no longer as strong you screw the cap back and toss the jar back to her. “But until then…” you trail off, taking one last look around the bedroom. Carmen waits patiently for you to continue, already aware that this is just part of your investigative routine from all the other times you have worked together. You glance through your sketchbook one last time before asking the age-old universal code once more:

“What have we got here?”

“A little variety for one thing!” Carmen exclaims as she takes a few steps closer to the body. “Not every day that we see the wife beating the shit of her husband before finishing them off!”

“True,” you admit with a tilt of your head. “Domestic violence where the woman is the abuser is not as common, but it still happens.” You follow her and crouch down over the body for closer inspection. Despite being dead, Mr. Harmon’s expression seems quite indifferent to his current state. Multiple injuries mare his face, neck, and chest, indicating that there was physical altercation before his untimely demise. It all points to a classic case of domestic abuse, but all the bruises you see are still black and blue.

“Did you happen to find any more bruises that are older?”

Carmen’s face scrunches up as she ponders your question before answering. “Uhhhh nope. I’ll make a note of it for the medical examiner…Oh!” She sets the camera down on the floor before scooting closer to the head of the body. “You’re gonna love this!” she declares with a confident grin. “As you can see, there’s a real nasty contusion on his head, which could’ve been the cause of death,” she informs while pointing to a bloody spot by the victim’s temple before continuing, “but there’s just one problem with that theory.”

You reach over and examine the wound with your gloved hand, feeling around the injury before looking back at her. “Not even a dent or crack in the skull,” you conclude softly, adding it to your mental sketch of the crime.

Carmen nods excitedly. “Exactly! So **_maybe_** he died from blunt force trauma to the head, but we won’t know for sure until the autopsy.” She picks up her camera and switches lenses before snapping a few detailed shots of the injury as she continues. “If anything, I’d say he suffered from a concussion. And if that’s the case, then it’s possible that it played a part in his death. Well, that and the loss of blood.”

“Hmm…seems plausible,” you murmur more to yourself as you withdraw your hand. “Miss Murder beats him up, he falls unconscious, and she probably runs away thinking that he’s dead.” You hold your sketchbook in your lap while you take out another rubber glove to replace the one now sullied with blood. As you carefully pull off the glove and slip a clean one on, you think about the recent cases yet to be solved. None of them are related in terms of how the crime itself happened, but there is one tiny physical detail that connects them. The more you think about it, the more you start to get a hunch that so far has never let you down.

“Is there any indication that he may have been paralyzed?”

Carmen pauses her photo session. “Uhhhh besides getting smacked aside the head? No, not really.” She removes the camera from her face and stares up at the ceiling in thought. “It’s possible that his spinal cord could’ve been hit during the beating, but I dunno if Miss Murder could’ve pull that off.” She turns her head and meets your contemplative gaze. “Ooooh! Are ya getting’ one of your Quickdraw hunches?” she guesses eagerly, eyes growing wide as she leans over in anticipation of your explanation. 

You grunt in mild annoyance before indulging her curiosity. “Let’s look at his hands and arms.”

Both of you lift a hand from where you are crouching and push back the sleeve of his pajamas down to the elbow. You splay the victim’s arm out onto the floor and begin to draw out your findings in the sketchbook. The inside of his palm is a bit calloused, perhaps from doing his own yard work, but the rest of his hand is smooth and free from any kind of blemish. You note that Carmen is examining the left hand and that a gold band is around his ring finger. His arm has a sprinkling of freckles among coarse hair as well as some muscle. And again, there are no blemishes of any kind…no cuts, no bruises, no injuries whatsoever. 

“No sign of defensive wounds,” Carmen mumbles in awe under her breath.

“It’s human instinct to defend yourself,” you chime in absentmindedly while you make note of your discovery by the depiction of the corpse in your sketchbook. “We still put up a fight even if it seems hopeless.”

You grow quiet as distant memories bubble up from the back of your mind, but you suppress the hurtful images as you reach over and pull the collar of the pajamas away from the victim’s neck. All you see are more bruises and no other injuries, so you follow your gut instinct and move onto to inspect his chest. You peek under the pajama top and see something odd just under his left pectoral. Your fingers make quick work of the buttons on the pajama top and you flick it off his chest for better inspection. And just as you expected, there is a small puncture wound that looks terribly like the other previous murders that have cropped up recently. 

“Oh shit!” Carmen gasps as she fumbles for her analyst kit. “I didn’t think about-”

“It’s okay,” you reassure while the corners of your lips quirk into your first smile of the day. “Nobody would’ve expected you to search for injection wounds since-”

“He has obvious signs of blunt force trauma to the head,” Carmen finishes your sentence as she takes out a couple of DNA swabs and tubes. “Do you think this is connected to the other murders? Or is this just one big coincidence?” she asks, quickly catching onto your hunch while you put a big circle around the puncture on your drawing.

“Don’t wanna jump to conclusions just yet,” you respond calmly while readjusting your glasses with the pencil. “Not until we perform an autopsy,” you tack on while Carmen gives you a knowing smirk. You stand back up and flip through your sketchbook, intending to ask her about the missing dog and if she came across a safe in the bedroom, but the sudden ringing of your phone interrupts your train of thought.

You shuffle the sketchbook in your arms, carefully trying to remove the rubber glove from one hand. Carmen watches you for a bit while you struggle before offering to slip the glove off for you when an annoyed huff leaves your lips. As soon as your hand is free from its protective barrier, you pull out your cellphone to see who is disturbing your investigation. “Huh…speak of the devil,” you mumble, seeing the name of the medical examiner before swiping the screen to answer.

“Hello?”

“Detective!” he greets you back enthusiastically. “I finally have the test results you wanted!”

“Excellent!” you exclaim while closing your sketchbook. “Mind if I swing by your office?”

“Oh gods yes! Please!”

You hear the definite sound of worry within his pleading voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, everything is fine! It’s just uh,” he pauses for a moment. “It’d probably be better if I just explain it to you in person.”

“Alright. I’ll head on over shortly,” you reply, arching a brow at his curious behavior, but you are not too surprised since he is known for being a little paranoid at times.

“Very good, Detective,” he sighs in relief. “See you then!”

When the end of the line cuts off, you check the time on your phone before slipping it back into your pocket. “You got a break in the case?” Carmen asks inquisitively as she snaps a few more close ups of the body.

“I sure fucking hope so,” you grumble morosely, “or else the Lieutenant will have my ass for leaving so soon.” You take out the evidence bag with the mysterious key. “I found this hanging on a key holder in the kitchen. Looks like it can open a safe or a lock box. Have you-”

“Nope, but I’m not quite done here,” she quickly answers while taking the bag from your grasp. “I’ll keep my eyes open for it though.”

You nod. “Also, have you seen any sign of their dog in the house?”

Carmen shakes her head. “No…but I did collect some small fibers from the bedsheets that could’ve been dog hair. Now get outta here!” She gestures towards the door with her head. “And don’t worry, I’ll cover for ya,” she reassures with a friendly smile. “It did sound like Graves was a little spooked by something…well, more so than usual.”

“Yeah,” you murmur while stuffing your gloveless hand into your jacket pocket. “Don’t know what that’s about.”

“Maybe…” she trails off in thought before her eyes suddenly grow wide. “One of the body’s came to life and confessed their love to him!”

“Oh my god,” you groan, staring up at the ceiling as she expands her ridiculous speculation.

“And he, so overtaken by their confession of undying love, asked them to be their lawfully wedded zombie!”

“Okay! I’m leaving now,” you announce with an indignant huff while walking towards the exit, glancing over your shoulder at the very exhilarated crime scene analyst.

“Aww!!! He probably wants to ask you to be his best woman at the undead wedding!”

“See ya, Sandiego!” you bark back with a half-hearted wave of your sketchbook before rushing out of the bedroom, shaking your head in exasperation at her facetious claims while climbing down the stairs.

You remove the other rubber glove and your glasses as you head out the front door. The officers standing outside bid you farewell as you make your way down the long driveway, steeling yourself with every step as the clamor of news reporters rings out in the morning air. You are once again bombarded with various questions as you cross under the police tape. Your eyes narrow as you walk up to your motorcycle, which is currently surrounded by a small group of journalists from the local newspaper.

 _Damn press!_ you seethe, but their presence is not enough to stop you from blocking their incessant inquiries by putting on your helmet before mounting your ride. The group spreads out and tries to block your only exit, but you call their buff by revving your engine a couple of times in warning. They all jump back at the blaring purr of the bike, giving you an opening to take off from the crime scene with a loud roar.

 _Another day, another murder…but I’m also another day closer to solving this case,_ you resolve with a determined grin while turning down the road towards your next destination.


	2. Consulting With The Experts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You stop by the morgue and find a crucial piece of the puzzle that leads you towards a unconventional solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot thickens!!! 👀👀👀
> 
> Hope you enjoy! 🌹😘🌹

Your mind begins to wonder about this puzzling case while the surrounding world zooms past you in a dizzying blur. It all started with some missing people cases…well, you are certain that it started there. Your colleagues believe that you are chasing shadows, and that it really started with the recent string of murders.

On the surface, both the missing people and the murders do not have any connections with each other. But they do share at least one confirmed detail given from multiple witnesses and resources: they all acted strangely before either disappearing or becoming a victim of foul play. You know that the connection is pretty broad, but at the same time…a huge group of people exhibited dissociative behavior before meeting their current fate. Something in your gut tells you that it all just seems too convenient to be a coincidence, but multiple witness testimonies are not enough to connect the dots that no one else seems to notice. 

You now have put all your focus on another plausible shared connection: the strange injection wounds found on the victim’s bodies. It’s also a bit of a stretch, but when you looked through all the accounts of the missing people cases again…a few minor details that were glossed over before are now glaringly obvious. Several accounts mention suspicions about the use of drugs being involved, and ten of those accounts include descriptions of seeing wounds that look to be inflicted by needles. That is one too many coincidences for your liking, but just mere conjecture will not be taken seriously by the higher ups…which is exactly why you dropped everything to go to the morgue.

Normally, you would go to a toxicologist for this kind of information, but Red Grave’s history with demons as well as the black market for their weapons and other nefarious goods steered you towards another kind of expert. Everyone knows that those who deal with the dead in this city have seen some pretty interesting deaths in their time…such as overdoses from otherworldly drugs or accidental poisoning from a mishandled weapon.

So, to prove that your speculations have merit, you have enlisted the help of Grayson Beckett a.k.a. Graves, the medical examiner who does not seem to mind his morbid nickname. He’s a little strange as all professionals in his line of work tend to be, but that has not stopped him from being one of the best in the field. His eccentricities have never stopped you from valuing his expert opinion in matters he’s more qualified for than you are. And it does not hurt that he is one of the few to also find all these oddities of this case to be quite perplexing. 

Your inner contemplation comes to an end when you finally arrive at the police station of Red Grave City, pulling into parking space before cutting off the engine and removing your helmet. You shake your hair away from your face while gathering your thoughts, putting on that mask of professional stoicism as you hop off the bike. It does not take you long to track down Grayson in the morgue since he can always be found roaming around the cold chamber. He told you once that he finds it calming to pace around in there during his downtime…something about the silence of the deceased makes for perfect conversation whenever he needs to sort out his thoughts.

But when you walk into the macabre storage room, you find him pacing around like a madman, far from the epitome of calm and more like a vision of distress. He jumps back with a startled gasp before letting out a sigh of relief. “Ah! There you are, Detective…very timely arrival as always,” he greets, straightening his clothes before holding his hands behind his back.

“What’s wrong, Graves?” you inquire with a raised brow.

“Oh!” he gasps with a shake of his head. “Right…well, you see uh…” he trails off, shoulders twitching as he clears his throat, “…one of the body’s is uh…missing.”

“Missing?” you repeat, staring dead straight at him. “As in…”

“Gone!” he abruptly shrieks, waving his hands around wildly before raking his fingers through his hair. “It’s as if it simply got up and left!”

“Alright, slow down,” you urge him calmly while taking out your glasses, slipping them on before grabbing your sketchbook from inside your jacket. “Start at the beginning,” you instruct as your hand slides the pencil from the spiral spine before readying itself on a blank sheet.

Grayson takes a couple of deep breaths. “I came in first thing in the morning, like usual, and shuffled through a bit of paperwork before getting ready for an examination.” He walks over to one of the storage doors. “When I went to pull out the body in question, I noticed that the hatch wasn’t closed properly,” he informs while pointing to said hatch on the door before continuing. “It seemed very odd to me, but I chalked it up to maybe carelessness from one of the other examiners. But when I opened it up…” He grips the hatch and pulls the door open to reveal an empty chamber. “The body wasn’t there!”

 _Huh…Sandiego’s theory has some merit after all_ , you admit wryly while finishing a small drawing of a zombie bride walking out from the storage chamber before launching in a series of questions. “You’re absolutely sure you were the first to arrive here?”

“Why yes!” he exclaims with a nod. “I always come in an hour before anyone else.”

“Do you know who was last here?”

Grayson shakes his head. “Not right off the top of my head, but we do keep records of our examinations. Let me just…” He goes over to a nearby computer and informs you that he is emailing the record to you while you jot down the possibility of the body snatcher being an employee here.

“Does anyone else have a key to this room?”

“Only me and the other two examiners have access as well as some of the higher ups,” he explains while tapping away on the keyboard.

“Which body was it?”

“The strangled victim from last week.”

Your brow quirks above the frame of your glasses as Grayson sends the email with one final click before turning around to share more details. “I was going to check it one last time before handing it over to the family…Oh how am I going to explain this to them?” he bemoans, sagging his shoulders as he lets out a dejected sigh.

“The security footage may have caught something as well,” you inform while gesturing towards two security cameras in the corners of the room with your pencil. You draw a noose around the zombie bride and write down that the missing body is one of the victims of your current case. “I’ll put in a report as soon as I’m back at the station,” you assure him a confident nod.

Grayson straightens his shoulders and takes another deep breath before thanking you with a grateful smile. You make a quick note about the cameras before closing your sketchbook with a sharp snap. “Now…you said something about results?” you ask, getting back the matter at hand while readjusting your glasses. 

“That I did, Detective! Right this way!”

He motions you to follow him over to a small makeshift desk in the corner of the room, which acts as his office even though he has an official one outside the cold chamber. He opens a laptop covered with various punk rock stickers and signs into his work email. “After a bit of research and numerous email exchanges with the toxicologists, I’m able to confirm with utmost certainty that the strange substance is…” he pauses for the dramatic effect while searching for the appropriate emails, circling the important part of the exchange with his cursor. “Completely unknown,” he reveals with a curious lilt in his tone of voice.

“Why am I not surprised?” you mutter with a frustrated sigh.

Grayson nods in agreement. “Now, from what I was able to gather from limited resources on the streets,” he begins as his eyes flit from side to side even though he knows that you are the only one present with him. “This strange substance isn’t a new drug out on black market either,” he finishes with a secretive wink.

“And yet it’s administered through an injection,” you ponder aloud as your mind begins to churn with new theories.

“Yes, well…in my humble opinion, it appears to be more like a venom than poison since it needs to be injected in the first place,” he clarifies with a small shrug.

“A venom…hmm…” You flip open your sketchbook and take note of this new bit of information. “Any idea what this venom might do once it enters the system?”

“I can’t say for sure,” he admits with a sad shake of his head. “And there’s not enough evidence to support your theory about the victims being paralyzed, but that’s only because we were not aware of this mysterious venom at the time. If only we knew beforehand…we could’ve dug a little deeper,” he laments while looking at the empty storage chamber.

“Well, you’ll get your chance with this next body,” you reassure with a small grin while finishing up the last of your notes.

“Excellent!” he exclaims, face lighting up with childlike joy as he claps his hands in excitement. “Perhaps we’ll finally have some answers…right, Quickdraw?”

You chortle at him using your nickname. This little victory may not be enough to convince your superiors to validate your theory, but it could be the hairline sliver that leads to a crack in the case. So, you give into Grayson’s infectious joy for a moment and bring one hand up to tip your imaginary cowboy hat to him while putting on your best western accent. 

“Sure thing, Partner.”

Grayson chuckles as you bid him farewell and take your leave. You flip through your sketchbook while you make your way through the Department of Criminal Investigations. Your mind starts to put a few key pieces together, hoping that it will be enough to convince the Lieutenant of your ongoing theory. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafts under your nose as you enter the main office area of the department, reminding you to grab your first cup of joe in the morning.

You walk towards a group of coworkers surrounding Blaise Fuller, also known as Detective Douche, the fond nickname given to him by Carmen for his overall contemptible attitude. They all grow quiet as your approach and their eyes follow you as you pass them by, whispering in hushed tones while you pour yourself a cup at the designated coffee station of the department. _He should be wowing me with his stellar observation skills_ , you surmise while sprucing up your coffee with a couple of sugar packets and a splash of creamer. _Any minute now._ You stir your coffee with a plastic stirrer before taking a long sip. _In three…two…_

“Well, well…looks like the Ice Bitch finished a little **_too_** early this time.”

You can practically hear the smarmy grin plastered on his mouth before you turn around to address him. Your eyes look over the frame of your glasses to focus on his smug face, pinning him down with your unimpressed gaze as you finish your first sip of coffee with a pleasant hum. “Funny…that’s what your ex-girlfriend said about you too.”

All traces of smug arrogance drop from Fuller’s face while a series of shocked gasps and stifled laughter sounds off from everybody within earshot. You honestly cannot tell if he’s angrier about the vulgar insult or the fact that said insult is the unfortunate truth. _Maybe I hit him a little too far below the belt_ , you wonder as he squares up his shoulders and prepares to bite back with his own venomous rebuff. But then again, you do not have time for his juvenile attempts at getting a rise out of you. So, you put one hand on your hip and take another sip of your coffee, showing oblivious disinterest while waiting for what will assuredly be the most scornful slight of the century. 

“Hey! Knock it off you two!”

Your eyes dart over to Jayce Spencer, your former partner before the promotion, standing there with a severe frown on his face. The resounding snickers from before gets cut short as everybody quickly disperses from the scene. Fuller snorts and gives you a deriding glare before rejoining the small group of co-workers by his desk. You move towards your own desk in the opposite direction, intending to check your email while waiting for the Lieutenant’s temper to cool off before presenting your findings to him.

“Detective Y/N! My office. **_Now_**.”

But it seems that you’re not getting off the hook so easily this time. A resigned sigh leaves your lips as you march towards the Lieutenant holding his office door open for you with a stern grimace. You enter the office and launch into an explanation as soon as the door clicks shut behind you.

“Before you go off on me, let me explain-”

“What the hell were you thinking leaving the scene of a crime that early?” he demands testily, brushing past you to sit down behind his immaculate deck. “We’re in the middle of goddamn shitshow out there and you skipping out-”

“With all due respect, Lieutenant, I wasn’t skipping out,” you cut him off as you take a seat in front of his desk before pulling out your cellphone. “I got a call from Grayson and went to check up on a possible lead.”

Jayce quirks a skeptical eyebrow. “Is that right?” You open your call log and show him the exact time of the call you received from Grayson. He takes a quick look at the screen before sighing deeply through his nose. “Well, whatever you have better make up for all calls from the press asking me to reprimand you for almost running over a few of their journalists.”

“Sorry about that, Sir,” you apologize softly, “…maybe next time they won’t block my way,” you mutter under your breath while pocketing your phone. Jayce just rolls his eyes at your flippant retort as you take out your sketchbook. “This is the fifth victim with the same exact puncture wound as the others,” you inform, showing the drawing of the victim and his wounds before handing your sketchbook over to him. “And Grayson helped me confirm that the substance found in the previous victim’s body is unknown to the lab and on the streets.”

Jayce looks over your various notes and sketches, nodding his head in agreement to some of your observations and raising a quizzical brow at the zombie bride. “Fuck…” he sighs under his breath as he hands the sketchbook back over to you.

“Yep. Fuck indeed.”

“So, we really do have a serial killer on the loose,” he surmises quietly as you put away your sketchbook.

“Possibly.”

Jayce rests his elbows on the desk and leans in closer as he scans you with his critical gaze. “What’re you getting at, Detective?”

You cross your legs and take off your glasses so that you could regard him with your solemn gaze head on. “I believe that demons are involved, Sir.”

“Demons,” he repeats with a blank stare before letting out a tired sigh. “Now, I know you check your boxes and cross your T’s more than anyone here, but I gotta ask…”

You let out your own exasperated sigh while pinching your brow. “Lieutenant-”

“Y/N…let’s drop the formalities and speak veteran to veteran.” His voice drops down low, sharp eyes clearly showing concern as he asks the question that you have been dreading since concluding demon involvement. “Are you sure you’re not just seein’ ghosts of cases past?”

Your eyebrow twitches as boiling anger surges through your body. “Fuck you, Jayce!” you growl, furiously hopping out of your seat and slamming your hands down on his desk. “You know better than anyone that I don’t let past feelings or trauma get in the way of my reasoning!” you argue, never tearing your irate gaze away from his worried face.

“Easier said than done, Hothead,” he counters calmly, not at all fazed by your outburst. “I’m only asking as a friend who, may I remind you, knows the truth behind what happened during our first case together.”

All your searing rage begins to bubble back down as you concede to his concerns. It still irks you that he still thinks that you have not gotten over what happened…but nonetheless, you know that it is within his right as your superior to question your state of mind. You curse under your breath as you settle back down in your seat, crossing your legs and huffing in defeat while he continues to stare you patiently. 

“Are you seein’ ghosts?”

“No ghosts, Hard Ass,” you assert, “only dead bodies and a killer to catch.”

Jayce nods. “I believe you. But without sufficient evidence to support your claim…” he trails off with a weary sigh as he leans back into his chair.

“It’s fucking bullshit,” you grunt irritably, bobbing your foot up and down in frustration while shaking your head. “We’re living in a city drowning in demons and they have the gall to-”

“I know, I know,” he interrupts with a wave of his hand, “but that’s precisely why we need the evidence…or else we’ll have every criminal we apprehend claiming that a fucking demon made them do it.”

A contemplative silence falls over the office and you go over the available options that will move the case forward. You cannot proceed the normal way; dealers in the black market are not known to help their local law enforcement catch a killer, especially if demons or Devil Arms are involved. _What I really need is…_ Your foot stops fidgeting as the proverbial lightbulb blinks on above your head. 

“What if we consult with an expert?”

Jayce furrows his brow in serious thought for a moment before the true intention behind your suggestion hits him. “You’re not seriously suggesting that we consort with a demon hunter, are you?” he inquires with an incredulous chortle.

“Yeah, I am,” you confirm with a curt nod. “Hell, maybe collaborate with one since there were a bunch of them roaming the streets when that freaky tree cropped up a year ago.” Jayce gives you a bewildered look from across the desk, but you go on with your perfectly reasonable explanation. “Plus, some of them are well respected by the people…unlike some us here who swore to serve and protect.”

Jayce squints his eyes as he thinks it over, steadily staring at you while his face goes through a torrent of expressions: wariness, consideration, and dismissal before finally settling on a decision. “Goddammit, Y/N,” he mutters with a shake of his head. “You have anyone in mind?” he asks hesitantly, eyes gleaming with curiosity despite his apprehension.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” You straighten up in your shoulder and announce the best candidate with utmost confidence and conviction in your voice. “Dante, the Son of Sparda and Legendary Devil Hunter himself.”

Jayce’s jaw literally drops in shock. “You have got to be bustin’ balls! That nutjob has a file this long and there’s no way-”

“Which is why he’s the perfect man for the job,” you cut in smoothly before listing off the reasons behind your suggested collaborator. “He’s infamous around here; the richest of the rich know him from his father’s status and the lowest of the low know him from reputation alone.” You uncross your legs and lean in closer towards the desk. “And if we offer to wipe his record clean-”

“Say what now?” Jayce scoffs in disbelief. 

“Then he may just help us without payment,” you finish with a nonchalant shrug while grinning triumphantly. 

“Un-fuckin’-believable,” he mumbles, head hanging low as he pinches his brow. “You know that we’re not supposed to wipe records for cooperation, right?”

“Yeah, but we both know that only works on paper,” you refute smugly, crossing your arms and sitting back in your chair as you provide more incentive for your former partner. “And we might as well use his name to get the press off our backs since they’ll focus on him instead of how we’re floundering right now.”

Jayce glares at you before leaning back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling and rubbing his chin as he mulls over the plan you’ve just presented to him. You wait patiently, knowing that he is going through the other possibilities in his head before inevitably coming to the same conclusion as you did. _Once a hard ass, always a hard ass_ , you observe in quiet amusement as he finally lets out a resigned sigh. 

“Alright, fine. Go and find this crazy son of bitch…see if he’ll work with us in exchange for getting his record cleaned,” he relents, lowering his head so that his cautious gaze meets your determined eyes. “But I’ll warn you now: you’ll be walking a very fine line if you choose to work with a mercenary like him.” He gets up from his chair, moves around his desk to stand in front of you, and delivers his one final warning.

“Stay sharp. And for fuck’s sake, be careful.” He offers his hand as you stand up.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” You take his hand and give it a firm shake. “You won’t regret it.”

“We’ll see about that, Detective.”

Jayce walks by you and opens his office door, signaling that this discussion is officially over. You exit his office and head straight to your desk, trying your best to hide your enthusiasm while considering your next step: there is still a key witness that needs interviewing, witness statements to look over, and the missing body at the morgue. But your gut instinct tells you to seek out Dante as soon as possible…maybe do a bit of investigating of your own on this prolific mercenary before heading out. 

After all, the day has yet to truly begin and this Legendary Devil Hunter may very well be exactly what you need to solve this case.


	3. Never Met A Girl Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All work and no play makes Dante a dull devil. But he soon finds a cure for his boredom when a smokin' hot detective comes a-knockin' on his door.

You look up Dante’s profile as soon as you get back to your desk. The Lieutenant was not exaggerating that this man’s file is incredibly long; it almost reads like a fictional novel filled with colorful characters and bloody descriptions. Unfortunately, all these reports are real and if any of what you read is remotely true, then you really have your work cut out for you this time.

It all starts with the infamous demon attack on Sparda Manor, which is common knowledge to most locals nowadays. The only body found in the rubble of their burnt down home was Eva Sparda, the matriarch of the family, and the rest of the family was pronounced dead soon after the incident. You narrow your eyes at that little detail…it’s rather strange that they just jumped to that conclusion even though there isn’t enough sufficient evidence to back up the claim.

The next notable part of the profile is all about the escapades of Tony Redgrave. You resist the urge to facepalm yourself while reading about all the events that occurred under his on the nose alias. It all seems to be standard fare on par with mercenary work, so you skip ahead a little until hitting another infamous incident involving some crazy ass tower…a lot of information about what happened has been redacted except that the Son of Sparda was definitely involved as well as an associate only known as Lady.

You read ahead again and raise an eyebrow at the strange report about a beautiful woman smashing through his shop while riding a motorcycle. This mysterious woman is later confirmed to be another associate known as Trish. Then it seems he left to do some outside work, so there isn’t much details except for a few witness statements here and there. The most noteworthy detail is the sudden appearance of a young man bearing a striking resemblance to the white-haired mercenary known as Nero.

A memory flashes before your mind at the name. You’ve seen this young man before; it was during the Red Grave incident involving the demon tree. You did not get the chance to speak with him…all you can remember is nodding to a young man with short white while leading a group of citizens caught in the demonic fray to safety. And speaking of that debacle, you skim through the reports about Dante’s role in that devastating event, which again seems to be scarce except that he was definitely hired to take care of whatever or whoever planted that freaky ass tree.

From what you can glean from the extensive damage reports, complaints about disturbing the peace, and the high rate of death and destruction…it paints Dante as a womanizing playboy who shows no concern for the wellbeing of others, which makes him a highly dangerous individual. Your fingers tap on your desk as you carefully sift through the information you have just gathered, noting that some of the reports have a healthy dose of prejudice attached to them. A good detective knows that preconceptions should never be taken at face value when searching for the truth. So, perhaps he’s more of a flirty troublemaker with a pension for hunting demons, which has earned him quite the reputation among mercenaries and police alike. You lean back in your chair and mentally weigh the risks of seeking out this infamous devil hunter in hopes of ridding the city of another demonic threat.

The soft chiming of your phone breaks you away from your deep contemplation. You pull it out your pocket and shuffle through a series of texts from Carmen. A couple of them are pictures of the victim’s garage, specifically a set of golf clubs found in the corner. She goes on to explain that this could be the murder weapon, but she will have to run some tests to confirm her suspicions. You take out your sketchbook and update the depiction of the crime scene with a drawing of a golf club with a question mark beside it. The other texts inform you about the safe key and missing dog. Carmen didn’t find any kind of safe or lock box that goes with the key, so she’s just adding it with the rest of evidence for further investigation. And there is still no sign of the family dog either.

_No surprise there_ , you thought while texting her back about your heated argument with the Lieutenant and your plan of seeking outside assistance from a demon hunter. You also let her know that Graves is fine, just shaken up from the missing body that could very well be the zombie bride she gushed about earlier. While waiting for her response, you check your email for the record of medical examiners that Graves sent, and you file a report about the missing body from the morgue. 

After completing those tasks, you decide to grab a quick breakfast and do some more investigating before setting out to find the Legendary Devil Hunter. You collect your sketchbook and grab another cup of coffee on the way out, gulping it all down in a few long sips while you walk through the station. Your phone chimes multiple times as you approach the exit, but you withhold from checking it as you slip past a slew of reporters standing outside the station. All of them are none the wiser as you gear up for a long ride before hopping on your motorcycle.

You rev the engine a couple of times before zooming out of the parking lot with a loud roar, hoping that you can make it to Devil May Cry before closing time. 

* * *

_(A few hours later...)_

_Another day spent doing absolutely nothing_ , Dante thought drolly as he rereads yet another dirty magazine while rock music blares from the jukebox.

It’s late afternoon and there is still no sign of Morrison. The phone rang a few times, but none of the callers gave a password. Dante knew that business has been slow recently, but he’s going to die of sheer boredom at this rate! He leans back in his chair and props his feet up on his desk, not really ogling the half-naked ladies in the magazine as his mind wanders through less vulgar musings.

Dante’s life has taken one hell of a U-turn for the better ever since getting back from hell with his brother in tow and having a very awkward but needed conversation with Nero. Just the fact that he even has a nephew still makes him shake his head in wonder, and having Vergil back to being his old cranky self…it all seems too good to be true. But a few pinches every now and then, as well as some stabs from his dear brother, knocks some sense back into him and erases all doubt from his mind.

Dante has never felt more alive now that he has finally found his family. And it would truly be a shame if this tedious dry spell takes him out before he gets the chance to really enjoy it. _Morrison better bring the cure to my boredom before I find it myself,_ he thought, absentmindedly turning a page while letting out a huge yawn. 

A loud knocking echoes throughout the shop. Dante glances up from his magazine towards the entrance. _Huh…that’s not Morrison_ , he surmises as more knocking bangs on the door. “It’s open!” he announces, not one to turn down a potential client coming to him directly. He tosses aside the dirty magazine as the door swings open to reveal an attractive woman entering the shop. 

Dante’s brow quirks in curiosity as you look around with mild interest. “Well, well…what’s a pretty lady like you doing here?” he asks nonchalantly while his keen eyes roam up and down your form, already spotting the concealed gun holstered inside your riding jacket. 

“I’m looking for the owner of this shop,” you inform in a calm and even voice while slowly approaching the landing area of his office. “Is that you?”

Dante smirks mischievously. “That depends on who’s asking, babe.”

“Don’t call me babe.”

Your stern voice startles him for a moment as you step up to the landing and pause by the edge of the carpet under his desk. You’re close enough now for him to get a better look at you; confident stance, sharp eyes, and a stoic face that could rival his brother’s stony expression. And yet it still captures his full attention despite your cold reception of his playful retort. 

“The name’s Dante,” he introduces himself as your head swivels around, taking in every detail of his office as you walk around his desk. “And if you’re looking for the bathroom…it’s in the back.” Dante motions with his head as you get closer to the couch, which gives him an opportunity to check you out from behind. His eyes linger up your slender legs and the curve of your ass…but then he does a bit of a double take when he notices a knife hidden in one of your boots. 

“Legendary Devil Hunter, Son of Sparda…and the embodiment of sloth apparently,” you muse aloud, stoic shell cracking a little as your lips curl into a grimace while examining the copious piles of trash strewn all over the floor.

Dante crosses his arms with a shrug. “I see my reputation still precedes me,” he quips back cheekily as your gaze turns towards the small bar in the corner.

“Please tell me **_that_** hasn’t just been hanging there rotting since the Red Grave incident,” you mutter in disbelief while pointing at the Empusa nailed to the wall with numerous swords and one small dart.

“What does a babe like you know about Red Grave?” he inquires casually while his eyes narrow suspiciously. 

A subtle spark of anger lights up your eyes. “Stop calling me babe.”

Dante slides his feet to the floor before leaning over on his desk. “How about you give me the pleasure of your name and maybe I’ll call ya by something more your style,” he offers with a wink, hoping to rekindle that spark of yours with his flirty banter.

Your smoldering eyes squint hard at him for a moment, the fierce spark now glittering as you reach inside your riding jacket. “Detective Y/N of the Red Grave City P.D.” You take out your badge and flip it open to show him your photo I.D. as you move close to his desk. “And if you call me anything but Detective…I’ll show you why some of the boys down at the station call me Ice Bitch,” you warn with a low growl filled with simmering anger. 

“Ice Bitch, huh?” Dante repeats while giving the badge a quick glance so that he doesn’t miss the show when the sparks start flying. “I dunno…you sound pretty fiery to me.”

Dante watches with fascination as your eyes burst with searing heat, but your entire face remains completely composed. It’s not exactly the kind of show he was hoping for, but there is still time to figure out what really lights your fire so long as you are here. There’s just something about you that begs him to stoke the flames flickering in your eyes…maybe it’s the way you carry yourself with utmost confidence around the shop despite the infamy around his name and reputation. Or it could be that fiery spirit hidden beneath your frosty exterior…all he knows for certain is this:

He’s gotta have more.

“So, what does the fuzz down at Red Grave want with a guy like me?” he asks, relaxing back into his chair with an amused grin, detecting another knife hidden up your sleeve as you put away your badge. “Wait, wait…lemme guess: you’re here to arrest me for being too damn good lookin’,” he jests, arching his brow while stroking his chin in a dashing manner.

“Last time I checked, it wasn’t illegal to have a scruffy beard and unkempt hair,” you retort smoothly while straightening out your jacket. “I’m here to request any insights you have about demons.”

“Well, you definitely came to the right place,” he boasts, dramatically waving his hands around the shop before tilting his head inquisitively. “Is this for a case?”

You raise a well-trimmed brow in surprise. “You catch on quickly…yes, it’s for a case,” you confirm, resting one hand on your hip while the other hangs down by yet another knife in your pants pocket. “We need to determine if demons are involved in a series of disappearances and murders.” You pause for a moment, blinking your eyes once as you tilt your head in thought. “There’s also the possibility of a Devil Arm being involved as well. And if either of those are true…” You trail off with a weary sigh before finishing your explanation. “Maybe we can team up and work on this case together.”

Dante kicks one foot up to rest atop his knee. “It sounds like you already know a lot more than your average cop,” he notes while his brow twitches with interest at your proposal. 

“When you live in a place like Red Grave, you learn to pick up on a few things…” The spark in your eyes dims down while a haunted look flashes across your impassive face. “Never know when it might save your life,” you quickly explain, crossing your arms as your expression hardens, but the dull ember of your eyes glimmer softly.

_Now that’s a look I know very well_ , Dante admits silently, having seen the very definition of anguish staring back at him in the mirror for years. “Alright, you wanna know more about demons…why come to me? I know for a fact that there are plenty of mercenaries in your area,” he points out with an exaggerated twirl of his finger.

“Because you’re the best of the best, Mr. Dante.”

This isn’t the first time that Dante has heard those exact same words. His usual response is to just laugh it off and comment about hearing it all before…but this time it’s different. The absolute certainty evident in your voice sends a chill down his spine. And the spark in your eyes is roaring with the flame of total conviction as you seemingly stare straight into his devilish soul.

“Hmm…you sure are painting a pretty interesting picture,” he imparts, fidgeting a little under your intense gaze, which makes him wonder if you’ve noticed just how tight his pants have gotten while talking with you. Not that he minds…but it seems you are more interested in business than pleasure right now. So, he brushes that notion aside and scoots his chair closer so that his arms can rest on the desk. “Look…I’m really flattered and all, but you’ve overlooked one minor detail: mercenaries and cops aren’t really known for working together.”

Dante flashes you with a toothy grin, hoping the reluctant act he’s putting on will illicit another feisty show. “Oh, I didn’t overlook it,” you reveal, quickly snuffing out his attempt at lighting the fuse with a shake of your head. “I just don’t give a damn.”

“Really?” He leans in closer over his desk as he pokes that wild temper of yours from another angle. “Didn’t know it was okay for you to break the law whenever you want and openly carry that gun just because of some fancy badge,” he provokes with a challenging smile.

Your stoic face contorts into furious scowl as the spark in your eyes ignites in searing rage. You quickly close the distance between both of you and slam your hands down on his desk, proving that he skipped lighting the fuse and just kicked the entire damn barrel into the fire! But it doesn’t bother Dante one bit as you lean in real close to his face over the desk, inflamed gaze boring into him while you launch into an explosive tirade. 

“Now you listen here! I took an oath to protect and serve, and that’s exactly why I’m here now! I did not work my ass off for this badge just to waltz around with this gun! And I have no intentions of abusing that sacred trust the citizens of Red Grave have put in me!”

You pause to take a couple of deep breaths before continuing in a calmer but still irate tone. “Your expertise and experience with demons may lead to the break in case we need…and it’s what I need to uphold that oath.” The harsh scowl on your face softens as the rage in your eyes dies down to a flickering flame of hope. “I need your help, Mr. Dante…I can’t crack this case wide open and finally bring this insidious killer to justice for the families and friends of their victims without you.”

Dante stares at you in awe as your impassioned speech buzzes around him like a temperamental honeybee. He couldn’t help but to watch your lips as you unleash your fury upon him…wondering if your kiss would be just as passionate as your volatile rage. And you are so close now, waiting for his response as you loom over his desk like an unmoving statue. But your intoxicating scent ensnares his senses while an all too familiar presence awakens inside him. His heart beats faster as blood rushes straight down his groin, forcing him to subtly readjust himself under the desk while the devil within purrs beneath his skin.

The door behind you suddenly swings open before he can come up with some clever one liner about enjoying the show. Morrison strolls on in and effectively pulls both of you out of the intense moment as he starts talking. “Hey Dante! Word on the street is that a detective from Red Grave City has been snooping around and…Oh!” He stops in his tracks when he finally notices you. “Looks like you’ve arrived before the rumors, Detective,” he notes smoothly while lighting up a cigar.

“I’m a firm believer of getting the whole picture before putting my pencil to paper, Mr. Morrison,” you divulge coolly without tearing your fierce gaze away from Dante’s stunned face. The corners of your mouth twitch into a fleeting smirk as you straighten up your posture while backing up from his desk. “I’ll be in the city for a couple more hours. You can find me at the Simmer Down Diner if you change your mind…and if you don’t come around, I’ll just assume that your answer is no.”

You turn and step down the landing before walking past Morrison towards the entryway. Dante’s eyes follow your every move, hypnotized by your swaying hips and confident stride as you reach for the door. “But make no mistake, Mr. Dante,” you murmur, grasping the handle as you turn to look over your shoulder. “There’s a serial killer on the loose and I intend to catch them with or without your help.” Your eyes sparkle with determination with those final words as you open the door and exit the shop.

“Did I hear her right?” Morrison questions, puffing on his cigar as he walks across the shop towards the couch. “She wants your help catching a serial killer?”

Dante keeps his eyes on the door as he nods. “Yep. Seems so.”

“Huh…that’s something you don’t see every day.” Morrison takes a seat on the couch and flicks his cigar over a nearby ashtray. “What’d she offer you in return?”

“We didn’t get that far when you busted on through the front doors.”

Morrison puffs on his cigar in quiet contemplation for a moment before cracking a knowing smile. “You’re thinkin’ about following after her, aren’t ya?”

Dante finally turns away from the door towards his dear friend. “What makes you say that?” he inquires, casually leaning back in his chair while Morrison shakes his head with a soft chuckle.

“You never could resist a beautiful lady asking for help. Even when all they brought was trouble…you still hear them out and almost always take whatever bait they dangle in front of ya.”

Dante shrugs at his friend’s logic while pondering about possibilities of working with a detective. On one hand, he’d have to play nice with the police and not break too many laws if he agrees to help you. But on the other hand, he gets to hang out with a smokin’ hot detective with one helluva temper. And if he takes up your offer…his heart throbs while the devil in him purrs at the thought of reigniting the flame in your eyes and seeing more of this sizzling chemistry between the two of you.

“You know me too well, Morrison,” he discloses with a puckish grin. “I’ll let ya know if I take the bait this time.” 

Morrison waves his cigar in the air as if to say **_told ya so_** as he gets out of his chair with a small flourish. He recalls the restaurant you mentioned as he steps out the shop, knowing it to be one of many greasy spoons in this area of the city. His hands are practically shaking with anticipation as he summons Cavaliere while a blur of different emotions swirl around in his head. If you can get this kind of reaction out of him already, then he’s gotta see where this may lead because honestly…he’s never met a girl like you before.

And now that he’s had a taste…he wants so much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title and overall feel of this chapter is inspired by the song "A Girl Like You" by Edwyn Collins.


	4. The Devil's New Partner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wait in the diner for a pesky devil to arrive before launching into more detail about the case. After some flirty banter and a heated rant, both of you come to an accord and you walk away with a new partner what may know how to melt your icy walls.

You knew from reading Dante’s profile that he would be unpredictable and possibly dangerous. And after some light digging around outside the city, you have learned just how much of a troublemaker he really is before setting foot into Devil May Cry. But you were not prepared for this the undeniable truth that came to light after your meeting with him:

The Legendary Devil Hunter annoys the fuck out of you.

You are hunched over a table in the corner booth of the Simmer Down Diner, still reeling from your first encounter with the infamous Dante while you wait for your food. The only saving grace from your irritable thoughts are your pensive drawings. You put the finishing touches on the Devil May Cry sign and readjust your glasses before turning a page of your sketchbook to doodle the shop itself…which is just a total mess. That didn’t really surprise you at all, but the sheer amount of empty whiskey bottles tells you that his carefree attitude might all just be an elaborate act. And as for the rest of the trash…you get the impression that he really loves pizza and doesn’t even bother paying the bills on time.

Your pencil glides across the paper as you draw a rough sketch of the jukebox and the rotting demon pinned to the wall with swords before moving onto the exasperating owner himself. Everything about him just irks you for some reason; maybe it’s the lack of professionalism or his not so subtle flirting in between the jabs at your profession. Never in your life have you felt such a strong urge to punch someone immediately after meeting them. Not even Fuller has ever managed to get this far under your skin after years of knowing him…and yet Dante somehow has you breathing fire in just a few short minutes!

The lines of your drawing get darker as you press the pencil harder against the page, being careful not to break it while you channel your anger into the sketch of Dante. You got a good look at him during your little tirade as you leaned in real close over his desk, noticing little details such as the silvery sheen of his messy white hair and scruffy beard. And those striking blue eyes…flashing red for a split second before twinkling with amusement while watching you rant just a few inches away from his face.

You hate to admit it…but a part of you also finds him infuriatingly fascinating. 

The soft ringing of a bell breaks your concentration as the door swings open. You glance up from your sketchbook to see the devil himself entering the diner. _Well, this is a surprise_ , you thought with quirked brow, partly convinced that maybe he’s actually interested in helping you with the case. The striking blue eyes you were just pondering about start scanning through the modest crowd. You straighten yourself up in the booth, revealing your whereabouts with a patient wave while you hastily close your sketchbook.

Dante’s lips curl into a playful smirk when he spots you among the crowd. You take this opportunity to check him out while taking a long sip of your drink. The first thing you notice while he struts on over to your table is just how intimidatingly tall he is compared to you. His long red jacket flares out behind him, allowing you a sneak peek of the guns strapped to his lower back. Your eyes linger over his broad shoulders and muscular chest before moving further down his body. You almost choke on your drink once you get a load of the very prominent bulge at the front of the black leather pants.

_Either he’s packing some serious heat down there…or that’s the cleverest way to hide a gun I’ve ever seen!_

You casually clear your throat as you set your drink down, hoping that it’s enough to cover up the sudden flush of heat rushing through your body. But the subtle twitch of his mouth tells you that he totally noticed you staring at his crotch. “I know, I know,” he starts when he gets close enough to your table, “if being this sexy was a crime, then I’d be guilty as charged!” he boldly claims while pointing at himself with a confident grin.

“Pff! More like if vanity was a crime,” you scoff with a roll of your eyes before leaning back in your seat while crossing your arms. “I’m assuming since you’re here that you’ve changed your mind?”

Dante doesn’t seem to be bothered by your chilly retort as he rests one hand on the table, really showing off his incredible height as he leans over the table with that stupid grin still on his face. “Lemme hear more about this case of yours and we’ll see, Detective.”

You study him for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh. “Well then, why don’t you have a seat, Mr. Dante?” you offer while pointing to the vacant seat across from you.

“Hey, there’s no need for that…just Dante is fine,” he informs with a charming wink, blue eyes gleaming with mischief as he slides into the booth. He pushes the table a little closer towards you so that he can fit into the small booth comfortably, long legs stretching out until both of his knees are on either side of your own legs. You grunt at the inconvenience but do not complain since you can’t blame him for being so damn tall to begin with. He rests his arms on the table as soon as he’s all situated and gives you his undivided attention as he picks up right where you left off.

“So, what’s this about needing my help to catch a serial killer?”

You slip off your glasses and sit up in your seat. “I believe that either demons or a Devil Arm is involved with some disappearances as well as the five murders,” you explain, but stop short when the waitress approaches your table. She offers you a refill before asking Dante what he would like to drink while batting her eyelashes at him. His roguish gaze never strays from you as he politely declines to order, only giving the simpering young woman a once over from the corner of his eye. The waitress pouts and lets him know that she will be nearby if he changes his mind before sulking away.

“Okay...let’s go back to the beginning,” you sigh while putting your glasses back on. “There’s been a drastic increase of missing people over the past two months. Most of them seem like your typical case of runaways and such, but some of them are highly suspicious. And when I looked a little closer…” you trail off, lacing your fingers on the table as you continue in a more hushed tone. “I noticed a pattern with every single case: all of them exhibited dissociative behavior before disappearing.”

Dante tilts his head and narrows his eyes while considering your first suspicion. “Alright…some people go missing, but what’s that gotta do with demons?” he questions with a small shrug.

“Not a damn thing at first, but I didn’t even see a connection until the murders,” you admit while sliding your sketchbook to the middle of the table, turning it around so that he can see your drawings and notes as you flip to the correct page. “This is the first victim: shot through the chest by a shotgun.” You give him a moment to study your grisly sketch before turning the page. “The second victim was stabbed multiple times.” Another pause to examine the gruesome scene before flipping the page. “The third victim was shot in the back of the head at point blank range.”

You feel his knees twitch against your leg, but you chalk it up to him being lost in thought as he scratches the back of his head. “I dunno…these all seem pretty random, Detective,” he contends, looking back at you skeptically through his silvery hair.

“And yet they all have one thing in common: a wound inflicted by a needle of some kind was found on all their bodies,” you counter while flipping back through the pages, pointing out your depiction of the wound in your autopsy notes. “At first, the medical examiner thought it was from drug use. But when he found the exact same wound again on the other two victims, he took a closer look and discovered the residue of some unknown substance.” You turn to the next macabre drawing and reveal your first break in the case. “It wasn’t until the fourth victim came swinging in that we were able to extract a small sample for testing.”

Your explanation gets put on pause when the waitress appears with your food. Dante picks up your sketchbook as she places a huge plate of the diner’s special down on the table. Your stomach growls hungrily as you stare down at the pot roast sub smothered with gravy resting atop a heaping pile of fries. The waitress asks if you need anything else, looking a bit perturbed going by her pallid face as she hurriedly refills your drink despite doing so just a few minutes ago. _That’s what you get for eavesdropping, Sweetie_ , you thought wryly, showing her some mercy with a shake of your head. She rushes off to the back of the diner while you grab some utensils with an amused smirk.

You take off your glasses and catch Dante staring at you with a quirked brow. You glower right back at him as your mouth twists into an annoyed grimace before digging into your hearty meal. A husky chuckle rumbles from his throat as he nonchalantly flips through your sketchbook, adding more fuel to your already inflamed temper by not even asking permission first. But as you take a bite of the delicious roast beef and gravy, you decide to just let it go since it’s just your investigatory sketchbook; there shouldn’t be anything private in those pages anyways.

“Did you draw all of these?” he asks, genuine curiosity evident in his voice as he continues to look through the various sketches of past cases.

Your head nods while you chew and swallow your food. “Drawing important details helps me organize my thoughts,” you answer before munching on some salty fries.

Dante looks up from your sketchbook. “You’re really good,” he admits, knee bumping playfully against your leg again with the compliment.

“It’s nothing special,” you reply coolly despite feeling warm tingles coiling within the pit of your belly at his sincere praise. “It’s just a glorified version of doodling during class when you think about it...anyway, where were we?” You quickly move on before making a complete fool of yourself in front of the cocksure devil who is currently smiling like a smug cat while brushing your leg with his knee yet again. _What are we? Teenagers?_ you mentally scoff, shooing his knee away with a swift kick against one of his leather boots before carrying on with your explanation.

“This is the fifth and most recent victim,” you continue while reaching across the table towards your sketchbook, barely managing to flip the appropriate page since you are a great deal shorter than him. “We’re still in the process of determining the exact cause of death, but we found the same exact wound on the body as well.”

Dante nods and turns the page while you take a few more bites of your meal. “What’s up with Frankenstein’s wife here?” he chortles, turning your sketchbook around and flashing you with this morning’s drawing made in the morgue.

“Oh!” you gasp, covering your mouth with a cheap paper napkin. “It’s uh…an inside joke,” you mumble with your mouth full, thankful that he cannot see your sheepish grin as you gulp down your food. “The strangled victim’s body is now missing from the morgue.” You dab the corners of your mouth with the napkin and take a sip of your drink before meeting his intrigued gaze. “And the test results for the unknown substance came back completely blank too,” you divulge with frustrated sigh.

“Alright, so lemme get this straight,” he mutters, closing your sketchbook as he leans in closer over the table. “All these people ended up dead with some kinda poison inside them?”

“It’s more like a venom since it has to be injected,” you correct with a brief nod.

Dante hums in thought while you go back to eating your meal in silence for a few moments. “Some demons can kill that way,” he muses with a casual shrug before nodding his head in a questioning manner. “But what about the missing people from the start? Did they have this venom too?”

“Some relatives and close friends report seeing what looks like injection marks on some of the missing people prior to their disappearance. I know, I know,” you murmur when that damnable brow of his quirks in disbelief. “It’s a bit of stretch. But when I talked with the victim’s family and friends, they all noticed that something was off with them before their death as well.”

You push your plate aside to lean in closer as you list off some key similarities. “Spotty memory, bouts of dizziness, and just overall despondent to the world around them…it’s the exact same symptoms of the missing people before they all disappeared!” you exclaim softly with a light slam of your fist against the table. “I know it’s a long shot, but everything in my gut tells me that all of this is more than just coincidence. And with the amount of people involved along with the fact that we’re the capital of demon town right now…” You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply through your nose before letting out a shuddering sigh while your mind glosses over old memories.

“Something horrible is going on in Red Grave again,” you murmur, eyes snapping open to meet his intense gaze. “And I’m gonna stop whatever or whoever is behind it all before it gets worse.”

Dante stares at you from across the table, mouth slightly agape while his blue eyes shine with wonderment. Your determined gaze stays on him while you wait for that fiery red flash to appear again, heart skipping a beat when it flickers for a moment before receding back within those stunning blue depths. “You’ve definitely caught my attention, Detective,” he admits huskily, eyes now gleaming with rakish charm as he fidgets around in his seat. “There’s just one thing we need squared away before getting this party started.”

You nod your head, already knowing that he wants to bargain for his services. “The RGC P.D. can’t technically pay you for your assistance, but we can offer you a certain deal in exchange for your cooperation.”

“Like a plea deal?” he quips with a cheeky grin.

“Not exactly…unless you’re guilty of something,” you explain with a puzzling tilt of your head before shooting him with an icy glare. “And if you say anything about your good looks one time-”

“Being this handsome is not the only thing I’m guilty of,” he cuts you off, completely ignoring your warning as he leans in even closer over the table. “But you’re gonna have to do better than that to get a confession outta me, Detective,” he murmurs, eyes darting down to stare at your frowning lips while a suave smile spreads across his scruffy face.

Your eyes squint in suspicion, sensing that he’s purposefully trying to get a rise out of you for some odd reason. “I’ll have you know that I’m one of the best at conducting an interrogation,” you boast, slowly leaning in so close that you can feel his hot breath blow across your face. “So, don’t think for a minute that this cheap and debonair act will distract me.”

Dante meets your challenging gaze while you hear what sounds like a low and gravelly purr emanating from deep within his chest. The clamor of surrounding customers in the diner seems to fade away as both of you just stare unblinkingly at each other. Neither of you are willing to back down until the waitress hesitantly comes by your table just a few seconds later. You ask for the check while slowly leaning back in your seat without breaking eye contact, feeling his knee buck against your leg in amusement.

As soon as the waitress scurries away, you let out an exasperated sigh while crossing your arms. “Now, as I was saying…in exchange for your help in this case, we promise to wipe your ridiculously long record clean.”

“Record?” he repeats while blinking in surprise. “You guys actually have a file on me?”

“Yep,” you affirm with a nod. “Most mercenaries in your line work have a file in Red Grave, but none of them are as colorful as yours,” you remark with an impressed shrug.

Dante scratches his chin thoughtfully, but then his eyes light up with what is probably a maddening idea. “How about this,” he begins while flipping through your sketchbook, stopping on the page with your most recent drawing before holding it up next to his face. “A clean record plus…you draw me like one of your French girls?” he proposes with a wicked grin while his eyebrows wiggle suggestively.

The last strand of your patience snaps at your sketch of Dante staring back at you. You stab the remainder of your meal forcefully with a fork as you hop out of your seat. “Let’s get one thing straight,” you snarl vehemently while reaching over and snatching your sketchbook away from his grubby hands. “I better not hear anymore pickup lines from that crude mouth of yours if we work together! And while we’re on the subject,” you sneer, not able to hold back the oncoming flood of pure rage surging through your body as you sit back down.

“I will **_never_** see you as something more than just my partner during this case because it’s very unprofessional and quite frankly, I find you incredibly annoying! And I can’t believe that out all the hunters I could’ve chosen…I just had to pick the most infuriating man I’ve ever met!”

Some of the babbling conversations nearby noticeably dies down as your explosive rant comes to an end. You pinch your brow and take a couple deep breaths, ignoring the gawking devil sitting across from you as well as the curious stares from some of the customers. _Great…I had one shot at this and I fucked it all up_ , you mentally berate yourself as the angry humming of your mind turns into quiet regret. _Nothing new there…I should be used to it by now._ You prepare yourself for inevitable rejection and open your eyes…only to be taken aback by the infatuated expression on Dante’s face.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask warily, squirming in your seat a little while he continues to gaze at you with that strange look in his eyes. 

Dante smiles as he leans back in his seat. “You’re really cute when you’re mad.”

You scoff and roll your eyes at him. “I’m not mad.”

“I can hear ya buzzing like an angry honeybee from here,” he snickers with a shake of his head. He watches you for a few moments, silently sizing you up while you put your sketchbook back inside your riding jacket. “Just add free pizza and beer to the clean record and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Your eyes widen in shock. “Really? Even after I was such a bitch to you?” you murmur, wondering why he still insists on helping you despite showing him your cold façade and terrible temper.

“I got nothing else better to do,” he replies with a small shrug. “Plus, you’re one helluva spitfire…I really like that,” he adds with a lascivious wink before turning the flirty tone down to a minimum. “You have a warm heart behind that icy wall of yours…maybe if I stick around long enough it’ll thaw out.”

“Like I’ll ever let you get that close to begin with,” you grumble under your breath while crossing your arms defensively.

Dante chuckles softly at your stubbornness. “We’ll just have to wait and see now won’t we, Detective?” he teases with a roguish smirk while his husky voice ignites the warm tingling in the pit of your stomach once more. “Do we gotta deal?” he inquires, playfully poking your leg with his knee again while raising an expectant brow. 

You grunt and kick his boot again before giving his suggestion some thought. “I do know the best places for pizza and beer,” you muse aloud, listing off all the pizza parlors and bars in Red Grave City in your head. “Fine… It’s a deal,” you accept his terms with a firm nod of your head while offering your hand for a handshake to solidify the agreement.

Dante clenches his fist victoriously before clasping your hand and giving it an earnest shake. You cannot help but notice just how warm his huge hand feels against your skin. The corners of your lips curl into small smile of relief, finally feeling like you’ve successfully taken the first crucial step in cracking this perplexing case. You pull your hand back as the waitress dashes over to drop off your check before zooming away as quickly as possible. 

“So, when do we get started?” he asks, clapping his hands and rubbing them together in anticipation.

“Right away,” you inform while taking out your wallet, throwing down some cash for your meal plus a little extra for any trouble you may have caused while dining here.

“Ooh sounds like someone’s eager for more,” he notes playfully as you slide out of the booth, pushing his leg aside with an aggravated huff.

You make your way towards the exit while Dante follows suit, slipping by you to hold the door open while you exit the diner. “I need to head back and prepare for your arrival at the station,” you proclaim as he follows close behind you. “Don’t want anyone arresting you on the spot,” you explain while walking towards your motorcycle, which is parked just a little way down the street.

It only takes Dante a couple of long strides to get ahead of you. “Wouldn’t mind getting arrested if it meant getting frisked by you,” he jests while spinning around to face you, never breaking his pace as he gives you a flirtatious wink.

“I thought I told you quite clearly that I’m not interested,” you tersely remind him with a harsh scowl.

“Whaaaaat? I’m just enforcing the law of attraction,” he claims while holding his hands up in mock defense.

You scoff at his cheesy pickup lines as you briskly brush past him, never looking back until you arrive at your bike. “Think you can come by the station tomorrow?” you inquire, checking out your ride for any problems before picking up your helmet and turning around to face your new partner. 

Dante bends down into a dramatic bow. “It’s a date,” he boldly declares with a quick flick of his wrist.

A single red rose suddenly appears in his hand and he offers it to you with a captivating smile. You look down at the rose skeptically as you reach for it, wondering if he always keeps fresh roses up his sleeve…or maybe he just stopped by a florist shop on the way here. Either way, it still does not stop this warm fuzzy feeling from rising in your chest as you take the rose from him…but you quickly slip your helmet on in hopes of hiding the fact that this romantic gesture had any effect on you. 

“I’ll uh…see ya then, Dante,” you murmur with a small wave, noting the gratifying sound of his name against your tongue as you hop on your bike.

Dante waves back with triumphant smirk. “Adios, Detective. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

And with those final words of farewell, you switch on the ignition and rev your bike a couple times before bolting down the street. The rumbling roar of the engine drowns out all thought while you drive through the city, completely focused on the road and not on the insufferable man that really grinds your gears. Your mind is buzzing with elation despite agreeing to work with a man that takes joy from annoying the fuck out of you. But then again, he just agreed to work with a woman that has no qualms about giving him a piece of her mind at the top of her lungs…and that’s what you find most puzzling about your new partner.

You slowly step on the brakes as you come to a stop light at an intersection. As you wait for the green light, you happen to look down and notice that the red rose still in your hand. A few of its petals have been torn off, but it’s surprisingly no worse for wear from the harsh winds. You flip up the visor of your helmet and hold the romantic flower up for closer inspection before bringing it to your nose. Its signature fragrance rekindles the warm tingles within the pit of your stomach, licking like some smoldering flame at the cold shell that constantly surrounds you. You melt for minute while Dante’s words from earlier whisper in the back of your mind: 

_You have a warm heart behind that icy wall of yours…maybe if I stick around long enough it’ll thaw out._

People have called you a lot of things: a buzzkill, a surly hothead, an ice bitch…but no one’s ever called you warmhearted. Hearing those words makes you feel-

The blaring sound of a car horn knocks you back down to reality. You immediately notice that the light has finally turned green, so you quickly put the pedal to metal and take off like a bat out of hell. Your mind focuses on the road once more, but the sight of the red rose still in your hand enduring the rough wind reminds you that you’re no longer working alone…you have a troublesome devil with a penchant for rousing your temper on your side.

And together you’re going to find and stop this new threat lurking beneath Red Grave City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there ya have it! I hope these first few chapters serve as a nice introduction to my new series! Please let me know you what you think. Any and all feedback is very much appreciated! 🌹🥰🌹


	5. The Devil's Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Red Grave P.D. is abuzz with Dante’s unexpected entrance while you couldn’t be more annoyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a quick lil update before I get caught up in the holiday rush! 🌹🥰🌹

You get an early start the next morning before the hustle and bustle of cops in the station, reading through some new files sitting on your desk. You skim through the progress reports about the sudden increase of missing person cases, looking for any connection to the current string of murders before setting them down with an annoyed huff. _There’s gotta be something there_ , you muse irritably, moving onto the boring task of checking your email.

_But what am I missing?_

The clamor of a huge commotion outside interrupts your frustrated thoughts. You walk over to your window and peek through the blinds, instantly spotting a couple of news vans parked along the street. Your brow quirks with interest as you check the time on your phone before heading out of your office. It’s a little past midmorning and with the press suddenly here…you get the feeling that your new partner has finally arrived.

You make your way down to the lobby and see Dante, Legendary Devil Hunter and Son of Sparda, arguing with two other officers. His striking blue eyes glance over at your approach, lighting up with relief along with the ever-present spark of amusement. “Hey there, Detective!” he cheerfully greets you with a small wave of his hand.

Both officers look over to see you standing behind them with your arms crossed. “What’s going on?”

“Mr. Wise Guy here says that he’s allowed to carry weapons into the station since he’s a consultant for the Investigations Department,” one of the officers explains with deriding sneer.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “It’s not uncommon for someone in his profession to be carrying guns,” you stoically counter with a raised brow.

“Oh, I have more than these guys on me,” Dante interjects while flicking his red coat out to reveal the black and white guns strapped to his back.

The officer speaking to you whips their head around with a perplexed scowl. “What?!”

“But we searched him thoroughly and only found two concealed guns!” the other officer barks as they search your new partner with their bewildered stare.

This time you don’t hide the roll of your eyes while shaking your head. “Lemme handle this, fellas,” you mutter testily, unfolding your arms before brushing past the befuddled officers. Dante smirks as you stand in front of him, gazing down at you with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Do you really have more weapons? Or are you just fuckin’ with the newbie cops?” you ask with a suspicious squint.

“There’s only one way to find out, Detective,” he murmurs, leaning down closer before giving you a playful wink behind his messy white hair.

You hold back from smacking that shit-eating grin off his scruffy face as you shoot him with your iciest glare. He makes a big show of stretching his arm out wide before raising them up, never breaking eye contact as he places his hands behind his head. Then, he begins to tap his heavy boot on the floor while waiting for your thorough search for concealed weapons. 

_Un-fucking-believable!_ you silently fume as his flirty joke about getting frisked by you replays in your mind. Your fists clench as you grit your teeth in an effort to keep your boiling anger from bubbling over in front of lower officers. You huff through your nose and step up to search him, giving him one last withering look while starting with his arms. You raise yourself up to the balls of your feet and pat both arms from shoulder to elbow before moving onto his chest.

Dante hums softly as you pat down his pecs and practically moans in your ear when you brush past where his nipples would be underneath his shirt. You feel a rush of heat surge through your body at the erotic sound, but you keep your cold composure as your hands slide down the sides of his waist. This time you hear a breathy laugh when you pat down his belly, but then he purrs suggestively when you squat down in front of him. You frown and look up with a scathing rebuke on your tongue, but it’s instantly forgotten as you realize just how close your face is to his crotch.

Your eyes quickly dart away as you continue to frisk him, looking anywhere but at the sizable bulge poking out from underneath his black leather pants. You can see him biting his lip from the corner of your eye as you pat down one of his legs, subtly squeezing his thick thigh with muted curiosity. He quietly groans and fidgets around a little as you move onto the other leg, which really tests your resolve as his crotch nearly bumps into your face. You grumble under your breath and reinforce your mask of professionalism, reeling back your slightly flustered state as you finish up.

You avoid meeting his mischievous gaze as you stand and turn to the totally oblivious officers. “He checks out,” you inform before telling them exactly who they tried to detain. All color drains from both of their faces and they immediately excuse themselves since it seems you have the situation well in hand. You shake your head at their hasty retreat while crossing your arms, mentally taking bets on how long it will take for word to spread around the station.

Dante drops his hands to his hips as he sidles up to you. “I hope you enjoyed copping a feel down there…cos I sure did,” he teases with a smug grin, which earns him another severe scowl from you. “Oh! And I really do have any other weapons on me…they’re just summonable Devil Arms,” he adds with a casual shrug, finally wriggling past your calm façade to poke your terrible temper.

“Only just arrived and you’re already a huge pain in my ass,” you snarl, roughly shoving your shoulder against his arm before stomping out of the lobby.

Dante only laughs as he follows close behind you, easily keeping up with your hurried pace with his languid stride. You ignore all the shocked and awed stares from your fellow detectives as you head towards the Lieutenant’s office, already knowing that he’ll just call both of you over as soon as possible. And sure enough, you spot him waiting just outside his office, leaning against the doorframe with folded arms while surveying the hushed chaos sweeping through the department. 

“Detective,” he greets as you approach with your new partner in tow.

“Lieutenant,” you reply back with an annoyed sigh. “Sorry about all the commotion outside, Sir.”

“Not your fault, Detective,” he responds before ushering both of you into his office. “You know how the press can be when they’re sniffing out a scoop,” he adds while closing the door behind him.

You remain standing while Dante steps up to next you as the Lieutenant walks around and faces both of you. He scans your new partner with his calculative gaze before speaking. “So, you’re the notorious devil hunter, Dante.”

Dante kindly smirks. “The one and only.” 

“Lieutenant Jayce Spencer,” he introduces while holding his hand out. “Welcome the Department of Investigations,” he adds as Dante reaches out and clasps his hand for a firm handshake.

You watch as the Lieutenant withdraws his hand and turns towards his desk. “Detective Y/N believes that your demonic expertise will be an invaluable source of information for her current investigation,” he considers aloud as he walks around to stand behind his desk. “And if there’s one thing I’ve learned working with her these last few years…” He pauses for a moment to take a seat, resting his elbows on the desk before finishing his observation.

“It’s that her hunches are rarely wrong.”

Dante quirks his brow at the high praise as you do your best to hide the swelling pride in your chest. You meet your old partner’s eyes, silently asking if he really means it despite all the shit you’ve put him through. He holds your steady gaze for a moment before blinking and turning his attention back to Dante.

The Lieutenant leans over his desk. “I’m willing to deal with the utter shitshow around you being here and working with us so long as I see results,” he sternly informs, never breaking away from Dante’s curious gaze for a few beats before turning to you.

“You’re fully aware that you will be held responsible for your new partner’s actions while he’s working with us, correct?”

You nod. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” The Lieutenant sighs deeply before catching your gaze once more. “Now, I’d like to have a chat with your new partner alone.”

 _Why am I not surprised?_ you thought, glancing over at Dante before giving the Lieutenant a slight nod of your head. Your partner’s gaze follows you out of the office, giving you a sly wink when you look back before closing the door. You wonder how long The Lieutenant plans on trying to knock some sense into the devil as you make your way towards the department’s refreshment table. The smell of freshly brewed coffee instantly erases all your pent-up anger from earlier as you pour yourself a cup.

“What’s with the raggedy red hobo?”

Aaaaand your temper starts to simmer once more at the sound of Detective Douche’s idiotic question. You don’t give him the courtesy of fully facing him as you tear a couple packets of sugar. “Your stellar observational skills continue to astound me, Fuller,” you answer wryly while adding sugar and a splash of creamer to your cup of joe.

You can see Fuller’s sneer from the corner of your eye as he scoffs indignantly. “Seriously though,” he prods as you reach for a plastic stirrer. “Who is he?”

You stir your coffee before turning around to face him with an unimpressed grimace. “Can’t figure it out for yourself, huh?” you provoke with a mocking smile while raising your steaming cup of coffee up to your lips.

Fuller puffs up his chest. “Watch it, Ice Bitch,” he warns gruffly with a scowl while stepping up closer towards you. But his aggressive response doesn’t faze you at all. Instead, you meet his irate gaze with your challenging stare while you casually sip your coffee with a loud slurp.

“Well, well…you must be one of the boys the Detective mentioned.”

You look over to see your new partner standing just behind Fuller, who visibly shrinks back from his towering stance. “The name’s Dante,” he introduces himself with a charming smirk, but the leery gleam in his eyes is anything but friendly.

“Dante? As in…the devil hunter, Dante?!” Fuller exclaims, shaking his head in disbelief before looking back at you for confirmation. You simply quirk an eyebrow at his shocked expression while Dante struts over to stand next you with a big fat grin. Fuller’s dumbfounded stare flickers between both of you before quickly reverting back to his usual brusque self. “What the fuck?! Why are you-”

“That’s none of your damn business,” you cut him off, already tired of him wasting your precious time.

Fuller snorts and rolls his eyes. “Really? And here I thought we were on the same team.”

“Same team, different case.” You step up into Fuller’s personal space and stare right into his eyes. “And you’re definitely **not** the man for this job,” you bluntly inform, secretly enjoying the indignant frown on his face before turning your back on him. “Now, if you’ll excuse us…we have a case to solve.”

Your eyes glance over to Dante leaning back against a nearby wall, smirking like he’s been watching a highly amusing show. “Pff! Please,” Fuller mutters under his breath as you signal for Dante to follow you with a slight nod. “I’m a man of many talents,” he loudly boasts, stubbornly refusing to drop the subject as both of you begin to walk away. 

“Suuuure you are,” you respond coolly, looking back over your shoulder before hitting him where it hurts just to shut him up. “Except for where it counts,” you add with a disappointed pout while your eyes flicker down below his belt.

Fuller’s face turns bright red with rage as your head turns away from him, completely ignoring his expletive mumblings as he marches towards the Lieutenant’s office. Dante quietly snickers at his overly dramatic tirade as you lead him to your office, swinging the door open and swiftly closing it behind both of you with a sigh of relief. You take another swig of your coffee while as your devilish partner roams around the office, checking his surroundings before turning his curious gaze towards you.

“Who took the jelly outta that guy’s donut?” he asks with a flick of his head towards the coffee station.

You softly laugh over your foam cup. “Pay Detective Douche no mind,” you advise while stepping up to stand in front of your desk. His striking blues follow your every move as you lean back to sit atop its surface. “He’s just always like that.”

“Ooh, I wonder what he did to earn that nickname,” he chortles with a humorous grin.

Your eyes narrow in on his scruffy face. “Keep playing tricks like that frisking stunt and you’ll soon find out,” you coldly retort with a vicious glare.

Dante raises an eyebrow at your sudden hostility as his lips curl into a knowing smirk. “I just wanted to show you that I’m a man of many talents,” he casually explains, mirroring Fuller’s words with self-assured flair while moving closer towards you. “Especially where it counts,” he tacks on as he halts right inside personal space, leaning down a little as you crane your neck up to keep eye contact.

It takes every last ounce of your self-control to not look down at the front of his pants while his suggestive words flow through your mind. Instead, you focus on his ruggedly handsome face while a red glimmer flashes within his rakish gaze. You squint at him but otherwise keep your face completely neutral, hiding your fascination as well as the simmering warmth in the pit of your belly. The corner of his smirking lips twitches as his eyes linger down to your lips, and you wonder if you’ll have to chuck the rest of your coffee in his face just to end this little stalemate…

The sudden loud bang against your office door breaks the tense silence, saving your partner’s face from a messy fate as you glance over to see what made that racket…or who in this case. “Fucking hell,” you sigh, shaking your head as Carmen peeks through the little window of your office door. Dante backs off a little as he looks behind his shoulder, giving you just enough room to take another sip of your coffee as you wriggle away from him. 

“Is she okay?” he asks, looking back at you with a raised brow.

“Yeah, this is pretty normal behavior for her,” you confirm, motioning for her to come in with a nod of your head before taking a seat behind your desk.

Carmen bursts into your office and quickly slams the door shut as she stares in awe at your new partner. “Oh my god…it’s you! You’re totally here!” she exclaims with a soft squeak of excitement before presenting one of her hands. “Carmen Torres, it’s an honor to meet you!”

“Dante,” he responds as he grasps her open palm. “But I’m guessing you knew that already.”

“Yeah!” she gushes while shaking his hand. “Everybody in Red Grave knows about the infamous…oh wow, you’re fucking ripped!” she abruptly notes while eyeing his very muscular arm in wonder.

“He doesn’t need any more help with stroking his ego,” you sharply interrupt, glaring at your overly excited co-worker as you sip your coffee.

“Oh! Uh…my bad!” she apologizes with sheepish a grin before withdrawing her hand. “I was just coming up here when I heard that he was finally here and I just kinda got swept up in all the excitement,” she explains with a shrug while glancing towards you with intrigued eyes.

“New evidence?” you question with a quirked brow, deciding to overlook her unprofessional outburst for the sake of the case.

Carmen nods. “Hell yeah! C’mon down to the lab!”

You quickly chug the rest of your coffee in a few gulps and toss the foam cup in a nearby bin before leaving your office. Dante follows close behind you, surprisingly keeping his mouth shut while Carmen yammers on about the press going crazy outside the station. You only pay half attention to her lively chatter, already focused on the task at hand when all of you arrive at the crime lab.

Carmen rushes off and starts shuffling through some files on a counter while Dante wanders aimlessly around the lab, stroking his chin in thought at some of the equipment. You reach into the inside pocket of your jacket and take out your glasses, slipping them before pulling out your sketchbook as well. Your eyes gloss over the collected evidence so far as you flip through its pages, patiently waiting for Carmen’s report while refreshing your memory.

“Alright, first thing’s first: the golf clubs,” she begins while sliding a few photos across the counter. “Specifically, the missing hybrid club from the set,” she adds, pointing out the missing club from the set in one photo as you join her. “I ran some tests this morning and came to conclusion that it **could** be the murder weapon.”

Your brow quirks up. “Could be?” you repeat while flipping to the drawing of a golf club with a question mark in your sketchbook.

“Yep!” she confirms with a nod. “It’s heavy enough to inflict the wounds we saw, but without the physical evidence-”

“There’s no way to know for sure until it’s found,” you finish, writing a quick note about her findings beside your sketch.

Carmen lets out a frustrated sigh. “I bet you anything that’s the murder weapon though,” she admits while gathering all the photos and filing them back into a folder. “Is this what it feels like to get one of your Quickdraw hunches?” she inquires as her inquisitive gaze turns towards you.

“Quickdraw?”

Dante’s husky voice suddenly brushing right by your ear startles you, but you’re able to mask your surprise behind your stoic façade. _How the hell did he sneak up on me?_ you wonder, knowing for a fact that you should’ve heard the heavy footfalls of his leather boots at the very least. You let out an exasperated huff from your nose while looking over your shoulder, glaring up at his toothy grin before rolling your eyes at his waggling eyebrows.

Carmen stifles her soft giggles. “Yeah! She’s Quickdraw!” she exclaims with a bright smile, emphasizing her explanation by pointing at your sketchbook with her thumb.

“Ooh, I see,” he murmurs with a slight nod. “Huh…not what I expected,” he thoughtfully adds while shrugging his shoulders.

Carmen tilts her head and playfully squints her eyes at him. “What would you call her then?” she asks while crossing her arms. Dante glances down at you as his lips curve into a teasing smirk before giving his answer.

“Honeybee.”

You bristle at the absurd nickname, clenching your jaw into a severe scowl as his striking blue eyes shimmer with mischief. Carmen ponders for a moment before gasping in realization. “Oh! I get it! Cos she’s got a buzzing temp-” she cuts herself off as your furious gaze turns towards her. “Anyway, moving on!” she wisely announces, getting back on track before you chew her out for wasting your time. Dante softly chuckles as she reaches for another folder, earning him a sharp shove against his chest with your shoulder.

“As you know, I didn’t find any safe or lock box anywhere in the house,” she recalls as you flip over to the page with your notes about the mysterious key. “So, I did some digging around and found that this key is for a safety deposit box at their bank,” she reveals, presenting you with said key still in its small evidence bag with a smug grin.

Your lips curl into a victorious smirk. “Excellent work, Sandiego.”

Carmen perks up at your genuine praise, showing off her bubbly smile as you write down the address of the bank in your sketchbook. Then, you grab the key and put it in your pants pocket before excusing yourself from the lab. You hear Dante bidding Carmen farewell as he follows your lead, reaching over to open the lab door for you with a charming bow. You shake your head at his over-the-top bravado as you leave the lab, walking down the hall a little way before talking things over your new partner.

“So, where do we start, Detective Honeybee?” he inquires, crossing his arms while leaning back against the wall with the ever-present cheeky smirk on his lips. Your brow twitches irritably as the ridiculous nickname, but you let it slide for now for the sake of the case.

“First, we go to the bank and find out what they were keeping in their safety deposit box,” you begin, taking off your glasses before slipping them back inside your jacket. “Then, we follow up with the victim’s son…he may have more to tell now that he’s had a day to process the death of parents,” you add while flipping through your sketchbook, stopping on the page with the very first sketches you drew at the scene of the crime. “I also want to stop by the pound to see if they’ve come across their missing dog,” you finish before closing your sketchbook with a sharp snap.

Dante tilts his head and raises a skeptical brow. “The first two objectives make sense, but I don’t see why you’re so hung up on some lost little puppy,” he admits with a shake of his head.

“It may seem trivial to you, but it could very well lead to an important answer,” you patiently explain while placing your sketchbook back inside your jacket.

“And what answer would that be?” he questions with a doubtful chortle.

The last strand of your ever-rising temper since his arrival finally breaks. It only takes you a split second to decide whether or not to run with the sudden impulsive flooding your mind. You swiftly pull out the hidden knife stuffed up your sleeve while stepping into Dante’s personal space.

“If this was a crime of passion or premeditated murder,” you retort bluntly while raising the knife up close to his stubbly neck.

Dante blinks and glances down at the knife. “You know…I was wondering if you knew how to use any of those hidden knives,” he admits with a small shrug, not even flinching as the cold blade of your knife grazes his skin. 

“I do,” you contest, showing no sign of surprise at him knowing about your numerous concealed weapons. “Now, lemme ask you this: did I whip this knife out in a sudden burst of impulsive rage?” you sincerely ask while staring up into his striking blue eyes. “Or I did purposefully pull out this knife with the intention of slitting your throat?”

Dante ponders for a moment, staying silent while his fascinated gaze bores into you. The flaring red spark in his captivating stare sends shivers down your spine. Then, he lets out an impressive hum while his lips curl into a roguish smile.

“You’ve made your point, Detective,” he concedes with a nod. “But may I offer you a word of advice?”

Your eyes narrow warily but you decide to listen to him out of curiosity. “Sure.”

Dante reaches up and firmly grasps your wrist. “If you’re gonna threaten someone with a knife,” he murmurs while moving your hand so that the edge of your knife presses against his neck. “Make sure to dig it in a little without breaking the skin,” he advises, dragging the blade across his throat with a husky purr before leaning down closer towards your face. “Gotta let ‘em know that you mean business, capiche?”

A mix of emotions flows through you at that moment. On one hand, you’re fucking pissed that your intimidation had no effect on him. But on the other hand, you can’t help but feel utterly amazed by his nonchalant response to literal danger gliding across his neck. Every aspect of your devilish partner confounds you, which should drive you absolutely mad. But for some reason…you find yourself being drawn to him, wanting to solve the mystery behind the Legendary Devil Hunter.

You withdraw your knife as distant voices and approaching footsteps echo down the hallway, “C’mon…let’s stop wasting time,” you grumble, pushing the sudden rush of complicated feelings aside while slipping your knife back up your sleeve. You put on a comfortably stoic guise as you step away from Dante and start walking down the hallway, turning back to look over your shoulder when you sense that he’s not following you this time.

“We’ve got work to do.”


End file.
